


That Joy Would Soon Return

by elistaire



Series: Hope Told a Flattering Tale [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Action & Adventure!, Apocalypse Thwarted, Friendship/Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fiendish government agency kidnaps Charles, trying to thwart final destruction of the world (!), and Erik is determined to get him back.  All does not go quite as expected.</p><p><i>When the war was over, and the humans were crushed, the world wouldn’t need its warriors like Erik anymore. No, it would need its philosophers, and its dreamers, and Charles was one of those. Erik must only make sure Charles survived to live in the world that Erik was attempting to create.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	That Joy Would Soon Return

Emma Frost tilted her head and listened to the sounds of thoughts many miles away. She could feel a small wrinkle develop at the bridge of her nose while she concentrated, then vanish as she decided on her course of action. It only took her thirty seconds to walk the corridor from her area to Magneto’s, but in that thirty seconds, she had digested the information enough to know that the future was about to get a lot messier.

“Magneto?” she asked as she knocked on the door. She didn’t bother to wait for an answer. There could be nothing more important than this.

“Miss Frost?” Magneto asked. He had been standing at the window, contemplating. Now he turned a quizzical expression to her, frowning at her rude interruption into his sanctum.

“There’s something happening at the mansion,” she said. “A lot of chaos and fear. Your telepath friend appears to be missing.”

~~~

 _1 Hour Earlier_

“Good luck at the symposium,” said Hank. He glanced to Alex, who was by Charles’ side. He was glad that at least someone was traveling with Charles, though he’d have preferred if it would have been himself. Being blue and fuzzy, however, did have its detractions. He wouldn’t be able to accompany Charles, and he couldn’t attend the symposium himself. He gave a hard look to Alex, who replied with a solemn nod of his head. The kid was impetuous and brash, and downright rude to Hank just about every time they interacted, but Hank knew he’d be there just in case there was some type of trouble.

“Thank you, Hank,” Charles said. “I’m quite excited. The scientific minds that will be meeting here are top notch. The opportunity to discuss genetic mutations with scientists of this caliber doesn’t come along very often. It is certainly something not to be missed.”

“I know,” Hank said with a slight regretful sigh.

Charles laid a hand on Hank’s paw and gave him a sympathetic smile. “There will be a day when you’ll go again. Either changed back, or else no one will think twice at the way you look now. We’re working toward that, don’t forget.”

“No, sir.” Hank nodded. He looked past the tree-line. “Here comes your cab.”

“Excellent.”

Alex and the cabbie loaded the suitcases into the trunk of the taxi, and Hank waved them off as they drove away. He turned back to the mansion. That left just Sean and himself in the house for a few days. The two of them could rattle about quite a lot by themselves. He wondered if that was how Raven had felt growing up—too small in a too large house.

He headed to the kitchen, his stomach rumbling. He hadn’t had lunch yet as he’d spent the morning working on trying to configure a formula to reverse his previous serum error. He supposed before he spent the rest of the afternoon validating his extraction process that he could scarf down a sandwich or two.

His thoughts focused on his serum project, he almost didn’t register that there was a small black briefcase sitting in the shadows by the door to the kitchen. It looked as if it had been put there in hast, and that it had been left behind by accident.

Crud, Hank thought when he saw the left-behind briefcase. He clicked it open and, sure enough, it held the more important paperwork that Charles would need at the symposium.

“Sean?” he called out. “Are you anywhere nearby?”

Sean popped his head out from the kitchen, a spoon full of peanut butter in one hand. “I’m right here.”

Hank smiled and hefted the briefcase. “Care to take a flight?” he asked. “Charles forgot this. He just left and I bet the taxi didn’t get that far.”

Sean grinned. He traded Hank the spoon of peanut butter for the briefcase. “Give me thirty seconds to get my wings,” he said, and he went up the stairs two at a time. “I’ll go out the upper hallway window,” he called over his shoulder.

Hank stared at the goopy spoon in his hand, one errant spilled drop from sticking his fur all together. “Eww,” he said, and went into the kitchen to dispose of the disgusting thing.

~~~

Sean loved flying.

It seemed somehow impossible, given that his mutant talent wasn’t wings, that he should be able to do such a thing, but between the Professor and Hank, they’d made it possible. He swooped high, then low again, just enjoying the feeling of shifting between the two altitudes. His body still felt heavy, and he certainly had to work at maintaining body posture, and to never forget to add as much amplitude to his voice as needed to keep him aloft…but, he loved flying. Loved it.

He could see the taxi just ahead of him. It was at the stop sign at the end of the long road that turned toward the town.

Sean frowned. The taxi had been stopped for too long. He circled the car cautiously, but nothing seemed amiss, other than the car wasn’t moving. He couldn’t see inside the car unless he went very close, so he decided to land.

He dropped to the ground and rolled—still needed to work on perfecting his landings—and peered at the car. Okay. Something was very, very wrong.

He discarded the briefcase behind a tree. He could collect it later.

As quietly as possible, he approached the car, ready to let loose a sonic scream if anything popped up. Nothing did and he had his hand on the door handle a moment later and could see inside.

Alex was sleeping in the back seat, but the rest of the car was empty. No taxi driver. No Professor.

The windows were all rolled up, which was peculiar because it was a warm day. Sean grasped the door handle and pulled. The door opened, nothing exploded, and Sean leaned in to give Alex a shove.

“Alex?” he asked, and realized he felt suddenly dizzy. He pulled back. The car had been gassed. Hurrying, he opened all the doors, hoping that it was just knockout gas, and not lethal. He thought Alex was only sleeping….

Sean concentrated on Alex and could see that his chest was slowly rising up and down. Just knock out gas, then. He took a deep breath far away from the car and lunged in, pulling Alex out roughly. He cushioned him as much as possible, but he landed hard on the road. Sean then dragged him away from the car and onto the grass.

He slapped Alex’s face. “C’mon, Alex. Wake up.”

Alex blinked blurrily. “Wha?” he asked.

“What happened?” Sean asked, but he already knew. Someone had used gas to put the car occupants to sleep—to keep them from using their natural defenses—and they’d kidnapped the Professor.

“Don’t know,” Alex mumbled, clearly still under the influence of the drug.  
Sean looked to the sky. How could he have been so stupid? He’d wasted precious minutes talking to Alex when he should have been in the sky searching. They couldn’t have gone far. The car was only a few miles from the mansion. “Stay here, I’ll be back,” Sean said. Alex’s head lolled and he fell asleep again.

Panic rising, Sean took to the sky. He followed the road—there were only two directions to go from here, and one led to town, and the other to farmlands. He guessed that the kidnappers would want to be lost among other cars, and would want the busy town. He flew as fast as he could go and still clearly see the landscape below him. Nothing looked suspicious. But would he know? It wasn’t like there was a big red X on the top of the getaway vehicle.

Anxiety gnawing at his gut, he started circling the area, making the radius wider and wider each time, but nothing caught his eye. Desperate, he debated between searching farther away and returning to check on Alex, and to advise Hank what happened. Hank would know what to do. He hoped.

Sean reset his flight, aiming back to pick up Alex, and return to the mansion right away.

~~~

Gus watched the two goons wheel the unconscious man into the shielded room. He was slumped in his wheelchair, eyes closed, and looked so exceptionally vulnerable that Gus’ heart wrenched a little. But he had to remember the plan.

A thin, tall agent came into the room behind the two goons and stopped to stare menacingly down at Gus. His eyes were such a pale blue that Gus could almost imagine that the rest of the color might drain out of them at any time, leaving the man white-eyed. “Your information paid off,” Agent Moines said. “Xavier is unharmed, as you suggested.”

Gus twitched at that. He’d had quite the twisting and turning to navigate the lies—half-truths really, not full out lies--needed to keep the Agency from following through on its original plan to eliminate the threat that was Charles Xavier. He just nodded at Agent Moines now, though. The less that Gus said, the better off he was.

Agent Moines chucked his chin at Xavier. “Can you read him now?” he asked.

Gus shook his head. “Not unless he’s conscious. Sorry.”

Agent Moines looked displeased about that. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared down at Gus, obviously debating how to proceed. “I’ll be back, then,” he finally said.

Gus just nodded and waited as Agent Moines and the two assistant goons left, locking the door behind them. Gus waited a moment, and then turned to inspect Xavier. He was alive, and unharmed except for over-inhalation of whatever noxious fume the Agency had used. Gus felt for Xavier’s pulse and it was strong and steady. Gus breathed a sigh of relief. This all hinged on keeping Xavier alive. If Xavier died, then there was no hope at all for survival.

Gus spent a moment to look unreservedly at the man in the wheelchair. He’d seen his face numerous times in his visions, but never before in reality. He seemed smaller, somehow, now that he saw him. Vulnerable. His skin was ashen-pale beneath his crop of brownish hair and his breathing was shallow. Gus hoped the drug wore off soon. He wanted to talk to Xavier.

He had to explain to him what was going on before the Agents came back.

Gus reached out to touch Xavier’s brow, but all he felt there was unconsciousness. He tapped lightly. “Knock, knock,” he said. “Wake up, sleepy-head.”

Xavier didn’t wake, and Gus resigned himself to waiting.

~~~

“Where is he?” Raven arrived at the mansion, along with Erik, Emma, and Azazel, and she immediately ran in through the doors to seek out someone to interrogate. “Where is he?”

 _In the study_ , came Emma’s voice in her head, and Raven pelted through the hall to the study. She flung the door open. “Where is he?” she demanded.

Hank, Alex, and Sean stared at her, their mouths open, and their faces full of something close to despair. Hank recovered first. “Not here,” he said. “Thank goodness you came. We need all the help we can get. We think he’s been kidnapped.”

In her peripheral vision, Raven saw Erik enter the room. His presence filled the air behind her, his anger an almost palpable thing. She glanced back quickly, only to see him flick his intense gaze at her before he returned to glaring at the three occupants of the study.

“How could you let him be taken?” Erik asked, his voice low and full of menace.

Alex narrowed his own eyes and took a step forward. “The Professor can take care of himself,” he said, waited for Erik to digest that, and then said, “And I was with him. They used some kind of gas to knock us out.”

Erik practically smoldered at this information and a few metal items in the room started to tremble, rattling and unsteady. After a moment, the movement stopped and Erik turned to Emma. She had come in behind all of them and was calmly monitoring everything going on. She surveyed the room, and Raven knew that included the unprotected minds of those in it. “Anesthesia of some sort,” she said. “They wanted him alive.” She closed her eyes and Alex gave a minor grunt, and Raven was glad to know that Emma must be pulling out every last shred of memory in there. Whatever happened, they’d all know as much as there was to know. “An agency,” Emma said. “Government.”

A fearful look settled on Hank and Raven couldn’t stand to see such an expression. It echoed the fear in her own chest, which was squeezing her so hard that she could barely breathe. She wanted her brother back, wanted him safe and sound and spouting off his ridiculously too-long scientific words. She thought that he’d be safe if she left him here—here at the house, their home. The others were around to keep an eye on him, help him if he needed anything, and he was a powerful telepath. He shouldn’t have needed help in the first place. But she’d been wrong, and now she knew that she should never have left in the first place.

Resolve hardened in her, and it was the strength of steel and beyond. She would get him back, and those who had taken him would pay.

Raven looked to Erik, and saw the same message in his eyes.

~~~

Charles woke slowly and groggily, not entirely sure where he was, but he came up to consciousness before he opened his eyes. Then there was the faintest whiff of a voice in his head that told him not to stir. _Don’t open your eyes,_ said the weak voice in his head. Whoever this telepath was, he either wasn’t very good at it, or he thought he must still whisper even when communicating mentally. _They’re watching the room by camera, and as soon as you’re awake, they’ll be in here._

 _What’s happened?_ Charles asked, and his mental voice sounded like it was booming compared to the other’s. He felt the surprise of the other telepath at the strength of this communication, but he didn’t have time to stop and analyze it. He was fully awake now, although his eyes remained closed, and he remembered that he hadn’t been traveling alone. _Where’s Alex?_

 _You’ve been kidnapped by the government. Your friend isn’t here. They left him behind. He’s safe. It’s complicated and I am going to try to explain, but we don’t have much time. My name is Gus._

Charles felt a flood of relief that Alex was safe. Whatever his captors wanted with him, at least it would be he alone that had to deal with it.

Charles probed a little, looking for a mental image of Gus from Gus’ own mind. He caught a moment when Gus was looking in a mirror, and froze it to examine the contents. Young, male, with a gracefulness to the eyes and cheekbones that gave him a face that was a bit too pretty to be masculine, although that might change as he aged. He had glossy chestnut-brown hair, worn ragged and long, and doubtful brown eyes that could barely be seen past the overhaul of messy hair. He was slim shouldered, not yet filled out to adult proportions in muscle mass, and somewhat short, although his natural thinness hid that with long lines. Charles also felt the otherness and sameness of Gus, if he didn’t already know Gus was a mutant, this would have certainly solidified that. But, the question remained, what was the government doing with Gus?

And how did Gus’ captivity relate to his own?

Gus must have felt the intrusion because he projected, _They don’t want me for my mind-speaking._

 _Then why?_ Charles still had to adjust his perceptions about mutant abilities. He had not found any real rhyme or reason why one ability would develop over another, or why one individual with the same ability as another would be so much stronger or weaker with regard to their levels of potential. From the inside, using his ability was just the same as doing anything else—breathing, sleeping, blinking an eyelid, smelling a flower. He imaged that when scientists finally unlocked more genetic secrets that such information would become clear.

 _I can see into the future._

At this Charles almost opened his eyes and he had to actively squash a gasp. That ability. He’d guessed that one day he would come across someone exhibiting it.

On the surface, such a calm gift. Nothing flashy, nothing overtly destructive. But it didn’t take much imagination to realize how much damage—how much control could be gained—with possessing such a power. Appreciation and apprehension grew inside him, and Charles wanted to rush further along in the conversation. There was much here to understand and grasp, and the clock was ticking.

 _You’re impressed._ Gus was once again surprised. Charles could only surmise that perhaps Gus wasn’t used to others really grasping the implication of his ability.

 _How? How does it work?_ Charles asked. Of all the things he needed to know, this was the most important. If Gus was an ally—and Charles felt he was—then understanding his power would be the key to getting out of here.

 _Can you watch?_ Gus was tentative, unsure. _I can show you._

Charles shifted his focus to entirely viewing everything from Gus’ perspective and at first, all he saw was himself slumped in his chair.

Then he felt the essence of a question form—what should we do next? And his view kaleidoscoped into an endless offering of possibilities. He could only catch glimpses of a few—there was fighting, there was chaos, there were more choices than Charles ever could have conceived.

Gus was focusing his own concentration, examining the possibilities, but he was doing it at a more rapid pace than Charles could keep up with, Charles caught only the barest ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘maybe’ decisions as each one was reviewed. The dizzying pace didn’t dissipate as the possibilities grew thicker, only intensified. Each one was examined and then flicked away, as if Gus were weeding a garden.

Finally, there were only a few left to choose among. Gus kept sorting them, exchanging one for another, flipping them over, rerunning the bubbles of events and actions. Charles was amazed by each one. The one Gus finally chose appeared to lead to their escape.

 _Let’s try this one_ Gus said, and he grasped the event bubble, held it still, and then asked again—what happens next? Again, an endless stream of possibilities floated through, and Charles could finally grasp what Gus was doing—every single one action event led to a reaction of events. The bubble-event that Gus had chosen involved a daring plan of escape—one that Charles might even have considered—but which ultimately ended with failure. They wind up right back in the buffered room.

Choices, choices. Charles felt the enormity of work that evaluating the future took, and how complicated. Each little detail blossomed into a dozen details, and each of those grew exponentially out into more. Like bacteria multiplying, Charles thought. At the end, there would be numberless event bubbles, each differing in scale from minutia to cataclysm.

Gus had to work through the long stretches of action sequences in a straight forward manner, until each reached some end point. The effort looked exhausting. Yet, Gus didn’t seem much fazed by the effort. In fact, unlike when he used his telepathy, which had felt tenuous at best, he seemed positively exhilarated by the exercise. Almost as if searching into the future were addictive by itself—and Charles could deeply understand how using one’s natural gifts to their fullest extent could be joyous. Much like an athlete at the top of his game, the effort and the successful completion were captivating and sought for.

Gus pulled the future down, and the event-bubbles vanished from Charles’ view. _That was just to show you,_ Gus told him, _I’ve already run through the permutations._

 _And?_ Charles could guess where this discussion led. Gus’ tone was slightly apprehensive and apologetic. He was hiding some critical piece of information. _Please, just tell me. Whatever you’ve done, I will help you, if I can._

 _I didn’t want to die. Otherwise I wouldn’t have--_ Gus stopped abruptly, gathering himself. _It’s too much sometimes to see the whole future. I only look enough to be safe. To make a big decision._

 _I understand. You can’t always spend time to check to see if having a second piece of cake changes your entire future._

That got him a flush of warmth and humor from Gus. _Exactly. So I didn’t see them coming for me. I…I tried to help a friend and she turned me in, told them about what I could do. They’re sneaky. Devious._

 _They’re well informed, obviously. They knew enough to be able to capture me. And to leave Alex behind._

 _I did that,_ Gus admitted. _They were going to kill you._ His thoughts tumbled out all in a rush, finally revealing the finer details of what was going on. _The future streams. They can get kind of complicated. And I never know exactly how others are going to act. It’s a lot of guessing. Or guessing what is most likely. And I kept seeing you in them, and bad things, and they went after you. With a sniper._

A chill went through Charles. Snipers could aim from over a quarter mile away. He didn’t scan that distance ordinarily. He would need to start doing so. Once he got out of here.

 _And then it all went to hell._ Gus told him. _Every single time. If you died, it became like a living hell for everyone. I told them what was going to happen and they didn’t believe me. And then things started to happen like I warned, and then they got worried. And…I sort of lied. I told them if they just caught you that it’d be okay. But no killing. No killing at all._

Charles tried to digest all that information. That he was on a hit list, that they’d intended to assassinate him. That Gus had intervened—and thank goodness, or he’d be dead, and Alex would have been dead, most likely. Perhaps all the students at his new school. Anger mixed with nausea. He’d been floating on a tide of ignorance, while events were moving too fast outside his school. _They’ve been using you to know the future?_ he finally asked, wanting to clarify this point.

 _Yes. They have me doing it constantly. They’re insatiable. They want to know everything. I can’t look as fast as they do things, though. It’s too much. I’ve started lying to them. To make them stop doing things. But I couldn’t make them stop everything. And sometimes it went wrong._

Revulsion was too light a word to express how Charles felt about the idea of Gus being so abused and mistreated, but he could only move forward. There was too much to be done yet to concentrate on the atrocities already visited. _You said my death started something?_

The emotion roiling off Gus went from somewhat calm with a tinge of anxiety to a spike of fear that nearly made Charles open his eyes. _What did you see?_ he asked, and he reached for the images that Gus was projecting—images of carnage and destruction. The sky was the color of fire and all that was left of once proud and mighty buildings were piles of smoking rubble. Thick, acrid smoke filled the air, clouding sight and smell. There was blood and injury everywhere, pain and fear and misery. Charles couldn’t help but shudder. _How? What happened?_ he asked, unable to digest the magnitude of destruction. _Is this everywhere?_

 _It starts here, but it spreads. It goes all over. At first it is just…. _Charles felt the hesitation in Gus. Whatever comes next, Gus doesn’t want to reveal it.__

 _ _Just?_ _

_Revenge,_ Gus finally admitted. _Your friends avenge your death._

 _No._ Charles did not want to absorb this idea. His students? Avenging? Wrecking such horrible revenge? But Gus sent him another image. And Charles could see that it was not initially his students. They were swept up in it eventually, tumbled about in a battle that they were forced to enter if only to protect themselves. No, it was Erik. Even in the bubble-event that Gus was showing him, Charles can see the strain and determination in Erik’s face—the absolute rage and despair. They weren’t even close friends anymore, were they? Did a few quiet hours of companionship every few months amount to such a striking reaction? As much as they had cared for each other, Charles had thought that past him now, unreachable, and yet there was Erik, tearing buildings down from the inside, clawing metal apart by the sheer force of his will. Entire blocks and streets of cars folded before him like tissue paper being crumpled.

 _But you said this wouldn’t happen if I wasn’t killed,_ Charles finally said as the image faded. It left him hollow and disassociated, as if he were floating and there was no where to safely land.

 _It was an exchange for destruction of everything, to just this building._

 _What do you mean?!_

 _Your friends are coming. They’re on their way now._ Gus exuded a serenity of acceptance. He’d seen the future, and chosen the best that he could out of all the unacceptable options.

 _No. They can’t!_ Charles thought furiously, pulling at memories of all the event-bubbles. _There must be another option._ One flickered past and he rewound the image in his mind. He studied it, aware of time passing as never before, ready to fling it aside in search of another, but it held solid. It could work. Charles turned his attention back to Gus. _I want you to look again into the future for me._ He mentally held up the memory of the event-bubble for Gus to see. _This one. What happens at the end of this one?_

Gus took a deep breath and they plunged into the maybes and what-ifs of an infinite future.

~~~

 

Hank did not at all want to let Emma Frost anywhere near Cerebro. The settings were adjusted for Charles, and he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be dangerous.

But Erik was insistent, and Hank had to admit that every moment counted, so he made the necessary adjustments, and Emma stepped into the helmet.

She gritted her teeth when it turned on, and Hank could see that however formidable a telepath she was, she wasn’t as adept as Charles at controlling the machine. Perhaps it was just that Charles was more experienced with Cerebro. Or perhaps it was Hank’s own bias showing through. He wanted Charles to be better at it than she was.

He clenched one paw. She had to at least be good enough to find Charles.

After about fifteen minutes, she was done. “I think I’ve found him.” She turned her studied gaze to Erik, and Hank could sense that she was measuring her words very carefully.

“Think?” Erik repeated, so on edge that nobody in the room dared to breathe loudly against him.

“There’s a small space, completely shielded. He must be in there, because if he wasn’t, I would have sensed him.” She lightly touched the helmet, an appreciative gleam in her eye. “With this marvelous machine. He couldn’t hide from it unless….” She shook her head. “Unless he was in the shielded space.”

Hank didn’t want to consider the other possibility of why she couldn’t locate Charles. If he was dead, there’d be nothing to locate. He watched Erik’s reaction very carefully, but there was nothing but the barest flinch to show he’d registered what had gone unsaid. Of course, Erik had probably been the first to jump to the conclusion that Charles might be dead.

Hank had often wondered if Erik monitored the mansion, and now he knew for sure. Because there was no way they’d have arrived so quickly without that sort of scrutiny. What reason Erik chose to do it, Hank couldn’t reasonably say, though it was not hard to guess.

“We’ll go there, and retrieve him,” Erik said. “All are welcome to join me, but we will have a plan, and I am in charge.”

~~~  
In his new, re-detailed suit, Alex stood on the edge of a figurative precipice. They were a few hundred yards away from a building set in the middle of the city. Erik had determined that most of the building was underground, with only a top cupola-like façade, and Emma had confirmed that the shielded spot was buried deep in the underground complex. The building itself was so brand new that it still gleamed, and even the pigeons hadn’t yet figured out where their permanent roosting places would be. They circled around the roof, landing and taking off again.

They had all come. Sean, Hank, and himself. All of Erik’s group, including Raven, who looked like she was ready to start tearing government agents limb from limb.

They surveyed the outside of the building with their eyes, waiting as Emma and Erik completed their scans of the building with their abilities. Emma’s face had gone slightly slack, her eyes had taken a faraway look, and it was easy to see that her attention was elsewhere. Erik’s gaze was blazing, burning, and direct. The last thing anyone would want to do is step into his line of sight. Probably they’d get sizzled on the spot just from the intensity of his concentration. Alex took a half step backward, checking himself. He felt good, ready to go.

Erik’s face relaxed for a moment before he turned his piercing gaze on Alex. “A word, Alex?” he asked.

“Sure,” Alex said, trying for bravado, and Erik led him a few steps away.

Erik spoke in a low voice, edged like a knife. “I don’t need to tell you how important this is,” he began. “But I do think I need to tell you how important you are.” Erik glanced at the others, and Alex followed that look. He could see that Hank was frowning, probably wondering what Erik was doing. “Your power,” Erik continued, “is far more suited to this mission than the others. The potential for you to make the crucial difference here is immense.”

Alex nodded. He’d been thinking the same thing. Hank could do amazing things with his speed, agility, and strength. Sean could direct his sonic blasts and cause a whole lot of hurt. Of Erik’s group, Riptide could also cause massive destruction, and Raven, Angel, and Azazel would all put big dents in the building and people. But Alex’s power could go far, far beyond all that. If he generated enough energy, he could possibly just vaporize everything in front of him. Alex wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go that far, or if he could go that far. Yet, here was Erik, searching Alex with his eyes, and gambling on him, that he could get the job done. Alex wanted the Professor back, and he had a score to settle. They’d taken the Professor on his watch.

He gave Erik a solid nod. “Whatever it takes.”

“Good.” Erik hesitated, then added, “Thank you.”

Suddenly, behind them, Emma gave a gasp. She turned her face to Erik, her shocked look suddenly turned to delight. “Oh, he’s good.” She rubbed her hands together. “Quick learner.”

The tension in Erik’s body ratcheted down just the tiniest bit and Alex felt like he could suddenly get enough oxygen into his lungs again.

“Charles?”

Emma’s eyes were shining. “We should go and meet him.”

~~~

 _Slightly Earlier_

 _It’s about time I met our captors_ Charles told Gus, and Gus couldn’t suppress his shudder. He didn’t want to see Agent Moines if it could be avoided. Charles had already opened his eyes, though, and Gus was surprised to see how blue his eyes were. Unlike Agent Moine’s, whose eyes bled paler and paler the longer one looked, it was almost as if the vitality of Charles’ abilities was shining out of those windows to the soul.

Charles looked around and pushed himself up in his chair, staring at Gus with the smallest, hidden smile. _I’m glad to move again, I was getting a cramp in my neck_.

Then, the door opened, and the goons burst in. Agent Moines followed behind slightly more sedately, but moving in a menacing manner. All three of them wore odd helmets.

Charles stared at the three men, his eyes as hard as stone. He glanced to Gus, frowning, and then back to the three agents. “What do you want?” he asked out loud, and Gus realized he’d never heard the man actually speak before. It was a nice voice, with the sort of tone that he would have described as friendly authority, if at the moment it wasn’t laced with a harsh undercurrent of disapproval.

Agent Moines came to stand directly over Charles, threatening, and definitely accentuating the fact that he was tall, dressed impeccably, and standing to intimidate. “We want to know what you know, Mr. Xavier. And make no mistake about it, you will assist us.”

“Yes, of course,” Charles said, and put two fingers to his temple. All three Agents froze where they stood and Charles turned to Gus. “Would you mind opening the door?” Using one hand, he wheeled himself around the frozen Agents and over to the entryway.

Gus hurried to comply. “But the helmets?” He saw that even as Charles moved away his wheelchair that an image-double of Charles remained in place. He looked back to his own chair and saw a copy of himself, sitting and waiting. So far, it was going exactly as he had seen it would.

“Not quite as well-machined as they could have been,” Charles said. “As seen in your future projections. And I’ve also been practicing a bit more on how to deal with them.” Gus could see a slight tremble in Charles’ arm.

“Should I remove their helmets?”

“Not necessary.” Charles’ fingers relaxed, and he put his hand down. “It should play out now.”

The Agents unfroze, and unaware that anything had changed, Agent Moines raised his hand and slapped the ersatz-Charles across the face. “Are we clear, Mr. Xavier?”

“Doctor.” The other-Charles said, looking up. “I earned the degree.”

“I bet you cheated,” Moines said. And then the fake Charles grabbed for the gun at Moine’s belt. The two goons reacted without hesitation, and took aim, and fired. The bullets buried themselves in the other-Charles, and one hit the other-Gus, who went flopping to the floor. The other-Charles just sank into his chair, head back, eyes gone blank and dead.

Moines started swearing, and the goons were about to call for back-up, when everyone froze again.

“I think we’ve seen enough.” Charles sighed. “Hold the door open a bit wider? This room is better established than their helmets were.”

Gus pulled the door all the way open and Charles maneuvered his chair just past the threshold. “That’s better,” he said. He put two fingers to his temple again and Gus could feel the command brush against his mind, like a bird skimming over the waves of the ocean, and even though it wasn’t directed at him, just observing the magnitude was impressive. Did Gus’ ability to perceive the future look like that from the outside? It felt so easy and natural to him—just to take a peek, a look, to follow a few threads of what-ifs into the future. His other ability—which on the face of it was the same as Charles’—was far more effort and work. But not for Charles’. For him it was like moving against a breeze—and here Gus corrected himself again. No, for Charles’ it was like moving with the wind at his back. Exhilarating, and easy.

Agent Moines and the two goons crumpled to the ground, Moines snoring so loudly that it was distracting, and comical. All over the building, like the curse in the fairytale Sleeping Beauty, the entire complex had fallen asleep. Practically comatose.

“Ready?” Charles asked. “Time to go. They’re all asleep.”

Gus took a moment to look at the image of his own dead body and of Charles’. “They won’t remember?”

“No. They’ll wake up and it will have been like no time passed.” Charles wheeled his own chair forward, keeping the sleeping agents behind him, and he didn’t glance back. “But they’ll think we’re dead. And no one looks for dead men. You’ll be safe. We both will be.” He pushed forward. “Come along. My friends are here and waiting for us.”

 

~~~

 

Erik walked through the front doors of the building, ordering the metal locks to give way so that the group could enter. This wasn’t the CIA. They had already been dealt with, on several levels. Although Erik did not feel completely secure yet on that front, neither did he have a day-to-day worry. No, this was a new government agency, and Erik was unfamiliar with them. He disliked the idea that the government was fast enough to develop an entire new agency with so much clout. Perhaps he had lost the timely opportunity to defeat this agency in their infancy, before they had grown strong enough to do more harm.

“They’re all asleep,” Raven told him. “I think it’s the whole building.”

Charles being merciful yet again, Erik thought. Still, it was a less messy solution than the attack he had been about to orchestrate. He caught Emma’s attention. “Miss Frost?”

She walked in step with him for a moment. “They won’t wake up until he tells them to. There’s something else that he’s done, too, but I can’t pull it out unless I wake one of them.”

“Best not to,” Erik murmured to her. “Let Charles play this his way. We can always return.”

“He’s down two levels, and on his way up. There’s someone else with him.”

“Friend or foe?”

“Friend. And mutant.” Her heels clicked on the hard stone floor and she turned away, to walk along on her own.

Erik waited at the elevator bank. The relief he’d felt when Emma had told him that Charles was still alive and safe, and apparently had the entire situation under control, was momentarily suspended. Until he could confirm a thing with his own senses, he held it in stasis—until he laid eyes on Charles, he would not be content. He could feel the shape of a wheelchair in the elevator, but nothing of the person sitting in it. One of the lighting fixtures on the wall gave a creak and started to fold in on itself.

“Charles would ask that you not destroy property,” Emma said from across the room, where she waited with her arms crossed over her chest. She raised an eyebrow at Erik. “He says it will thwart his plans.”

“Indeed.” Erik concentrated for a moment and the fixture righted itself, looking hardly mussed, and just as before.

A brief moment later, a faint dinging noise sounded and the doors to the elevator slid open. Charles wheeled himself out, and right behind him came a slim young man with an awed and frightened look to him. He paused at seeing the group of people in front of him, one hand going to the back of Charles’ chair, as if to ready himself to stay with Charles if there was danger, and Erik decided that whatever else this boy might be, he at least had a bit of bravery to him.

It took Erik a half a stride to come to be by Charles’ side. He allowed himself only a quick touch to Charles’ shoulder. He wanted to do more, but this was neither the time nor the place. “You’re safe,” he murmured, and although the words were redundant, the relief at being able to say those words was not.

Charles’ attention took in the people in the wide corridor, dressed to fight, and he smiled. “I appreciate the effort gone to on my behalf. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be handling this myself.” He motioned to the man behind him. “Until I met Gus here. A most talented mutant.” There was a momentary pause and then he said. “Perhaps we should remove ourselves. I need to let the people in here wake up at some point. It’d be better if I did it sooner rather than later.”

Erik knelt down, his arm resting against Charles’. “What have you done?” he asked.

Charles’ face lit up with pleasure. “Oh, I’ve played a trick on them. You’ll see. Let’s go.”

It took only a minute to entirely vacate the building to their reconnaissance position of before. Erik stood next to Charles as he turned his concentration back on the building. Before he did so, he turned to the new mutant. “Gus? Anything change that I should know about?”

“No. It ends up the same as before.”

“Excellent.” Charles put two fingers to the side of his head and closed his eyes. “Wake,” he said. “You fell asleep at your job.” After a moment he put his hand down and turned to look at Erik, his eyes searching for something in his face. Whatever he was looking for, Erik hoped he found it.

“Ah!” said Emma, standing a bit off to the side and behind him. “That was clever.” She sent a dazzling smile at Erik.

“Azazel?” Erik said, not breaking off eye contact with Emma’s brilliant smile. “Take us to our respective homes, please.”

Azazel responded with a nod. There came the faint popping noise that accompanied his teleportation, and the group began to shrink in size.

Charles touched Erik’s arm. “Come home with me?” he asked. “For a night. For a week. For forever. Whatever you can spare.”

Erik closed his eyes as Azazel came back to transport them. “To the mansion for us both, please,” he said, and looked at Charles as their surroundings vanished. “For a night, at least.”

~~~

“Hi, I’m Hank and this is Alex and Sean,” Hank said as he introduced the others. They were back on the front lawn of the mansion, Azazel having left them there with a smirking grin.

“Gus.” Gus visibly swallowed. “Are you also....”

“Mutants?” Hank asked and laughed. As if his having blue fur didn’t give it away.

“Yeah,” Alex said, with a cross look shot at Hank for being obtuse. “All of us. You’ll like it here, if you want to stay. ” Alex waved a hand at the mansion behind him. “It’s a bit daunting at first. But you’ll get used to it. The Professor tries to help us all work on our abilities, so it’s a good thing there’s room to move around in.”

“What he did earlier was amazing,” Gus agreed. “I thought for sure we wouldn’t get out, but he’s not fazed by anything.”

“No,” Sean said, the pride obvious in the way he straightened up. “Not much, anyway.”

“How did you get out?” Hank asked. “No one has said. And what was that place?” He’d worked for the CIA, and he knew how secretive they could be, but that place gave him the creeps on a whole new level.

“Charles made them believe we were dead, and then he sent them all to sleep. He said that they wouldn’t go looking for dead men anymore,” Gus told them. “I could see—I could see him do it. He’s really powerful.”

There was a popping sound, and the four of them turned to see that Azazel had brought Charles and Erik safely to rest on the patio area, where Charles’ wheelchair wouldn’t be mired in the thick grass. Azazel disappeared a moment later, and Erik walked slowly beside Charles as they went inside.

“He was going to destroy the whole world,” Gus said, wonder in his voice.

“What?” Hank said, whipping around to stare at Gus. “Who?”

“That other man, the one with Charles.”

“Erik?” Alex asked. “Erik was going to—what? Kill everybody?”

Gus shrugged, looking down, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Yes. Everything. To dust.”

“Was going to?” Hank asked. “But not anymore?” He’d heard Emma tell Erik that Gus was a mutant, but not what his ability was. Hank was beginning to suspect.

“No, not anymore,” Gus said. “Charles changed it.”

“Changed it?” Sean asked, his confusion evident in his voice.

Gus looked off to the horizon. “They were going to kill him. Charles.” Hank felt the horror of that deep in his chest. He could see Sean and Alex gape, also disgusted. They weren’t against the government, why couldn’t they see that? They weren’t a threat as long as they weren’t treated like one. Gus continued, oblivious of the recoil in his listeners, “And it set off a domino effect. War and blood and pain and everything. That man—Erik—set it all off, and led it, and was unstoppable.” He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “We have to make sure Charles is safe. Because the outcome if he isn’t is just…it would…be terrible.”

Hank glanced at the doorway through which Charles and Erik had come, hopefully to have a nice chat and come to some type of an understanding between them. “Yeah, well, their relationship is…complicated.”

The two of them were drawn to each other like moths to flames, beating their wings until they burned. Hank didn’t know if it was because they had such robust powers, or if it was something in their personalities, but the two of them together were almost frightening in intensity. Hank had thought it a shame of the worst proportion that they couldn’t manage to work together toward a common goal. Splintered as their groups were, it could only end badly. He shook his head and turned his mind away from the subject. Right now, the more interesting topic was Gus.

“You can see into the future, can’t you?” Hank asked.

“A little,” Gus said. “But it isn’t always clear.”

Hank exchanged a look with Sean and Alex. It didn’t take a scientist to know that being able to see the future was a game-changer. If Erik found out—Hank shuddered. He didn’t want to know what Erik would do with a mutant on his team who could tell him how his schemes would come out.

“You’d better stay here with us,” Alex said. “I think you’ll be better off if you stay.”

Sean draped an arm over Gus’ shoulders. “Of course he’ll stay! Wait’ll you see the coffee machine the Professor has in his kitchen. It makes Italian coffee. Really strong. And the weight room. Every piece of equipment that you could imagine. You’re going to like it here.”

Gus looked unfocused for a moment and Hank wondered if he was using his ability to see into the future right then. He felt a flush of jealousy. It would have been nice, he thought, to have an ability that didn’t show on the outside. Not that he regretted being who he was…he just wished life were a bit less inconvenient now and then.

“I’d like to stay,” Gus said. “I think it’d be the right decision.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever tried gambling?” he asked. “Poker?”

Hank cuffed him in the arm. “Don’t go spoiling the new recruits!”

Gus laughed, and it felt familiar already. Hank was pretty sure that things were going to be okay.

~~~

Charles wheeled himself down the hall, Erik by his side, and just having him there for the moment was a balm on a wound still so raw that Charles didn’t even realize how much he had been bleeding.

His head still hurt somewhat from the chemical gas that he’d been exposed to—but he didn’t want Erik to be aware of that. It would somehow make him seem weaker, and Charles didn’t want anything else to diminish him in Erik’s eyes. The temptation to trespass where he hasn’t asked permission was nearly overwhelming, as Erik had removed his damned helmet for once, but this had been one of the lessons that Charles had finally, finally learned. If there were differences between where he and Erik stood, it was a matter of degrees, not entire shifts, and Charles would not transgress. Not unless he had a very good reason.

Charles paused and pushed open the door to the study. It was the room they spent the most time in together, so it was comfortable, and almost like neutral territory, even though it was here in the mansion. Erik smiled and shook his head. He reached out and pulled the door closed and Charles looked at him, slightly surprised. Erik had said one night--

“Tonight, I think we can do more than just play chess,” Erik said, and in a few strides, he reached the door to Charles’ bedroom.

Charles moved slowly to join him, his heart beating fast in his chest. “But you’ll still claim to be my enemy in the morning,” he said. “I’m just as satisfied with your company.” This was entirely true. Charles was never happier, even when they were at odds, than when he was interacting with Erik.

Erik dropped into a crouch so that they were face to face. “Enemies. I hardly think so, Charles. If we were enemies, I’d have rejoiced at your being removed from the game of play. And I did not.”

“You came after me,” Charles said. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to feel about the day’s events. Pleased that he had handled the situation himself, that a rescue hadn’t been necessary. Concerned that his students, and even Erik’s followers, had been willing to propagate utter destruction on his behalf. The echoes of Gus’ event-bubbles were still in his mind. He had seen the future, and it had been chaos. He hated that he had been taken and that others had been put at risk. He had weakness and vulnerabilities, and he would have to start seeing about developing mechanisms to counter those.

“Shhh,” Erik said, running his thumb down from Charles’ forehead to the tip of his nose. “I don’t need to be a telepath to see your thoughts churning. Just be with me, for this one night.”

Erik slid his thumb off Charles’ nose and rested it on Charles’ lips. They remained that way for a long moment, staring into each others' eyes, and Charles couldn’t help but think it was strange, and yet perfect.

“I would always come for you,” Erik said, his voice low, and his eyes fluttered closed, all the better to see the internal images that Charles was determined to not eavesdrop on, no matter how much he desired it. “There is no word for what we are to each other. Not friends. Nor enemies. Lovers does not convey the entirety of our opposition. Nor our commitment. We will have to struggle to define ourselves, Charles.”

“For tonight, I would be quite pleased to work on the lover aspect,” Charles murmured behind Erik’s thumb. Impulsively, he licked the broad pad of it, which had grown warm against his lips. “I’ll defeat your evil schemes tomorrow.” He arched an eyebrow.

Erik paused, stunned, and then he threw back his head and laughed. He dropped to his knees and leaned forward, his weight like a heavy quilt across Charles’ torso, and pressed himself into a kiss, which Charles returned with equal fervor. Erik’s desire was leaking in past Charles’ barriers, and it was tinged with a primal urge to reclaim, and with a fleeting joy that brightened every fiber in Charles’ being, filling him to the brim.

~~~

Erik stood in front of the house. Emma had found the man quite easily, and Erik had waited a suitable amount of time. He did not want Charles to know he had done this. In many ways, though his abilities were incomparable, Charles was like a child. Too young and inexperienced to truly understand the stakes, and not ruthless enough to do what must be done. If perhaps they had found each other sooner, Erik might have had more influence—but he stopped that thought before it could finish. Charles was who he was, and his utterly ridiculous and charming naiveté was one of the powerfully compelling reasons why Erik was drawn to him. When the war was over, and the humans were crushed, the world wouldn’t need its warriors like Erik anymore. No, it would need its philosophers, and its dreamers, and Charles was one of those. Erik must only make sure Charles survived to live in the world that Erik was attempting to create.

Then, Erik hoped, perhaps he and Charles would have a chance together.

It was a fine dream, and Erik carefully wrapped it away in his mind, as impossible as it probably was, and put it away for another day.

For now, however, Erik must be the warrior.

He disengaged the metal locks on the door and entered the house, moving purposefully. There was only a single occupant.

Erik was aware of how Charles affected his escape from the new agency’s building, and he found it brilliant. As long as the agency continued to list Charles as deceased, they would spend no effort in tracking him down. The constriction around Erik’s heart in this matter was eased only slightly; there are far too many other dangers out in the world for him not to worry about Charles’ safety.

But Charles’ action was not a solution for the rest of mutant-kind, and Erik has already started to take steps to counter this new agency, and their workings.

Tonight was not exactly about those future plans. Tonight was entirely about retribution.

He has brought with him a small piece of metal, which is barely the size of a grain of pollen. This must not look like a murder, it must look natural.

He entered the bedroom of the man behind the initial plot to kidnap Charles, and paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkened gloom. Agent Moines was snoring, sleeping the sleep of the righteous and justified.

The old anger was just under the surface of his skin, familiar and useful. Erik concentrated on the particle of metal and it rose from the small container he brought it in. He directed it to enter it at the man’s throat, where the line of beard stubble was shadowed and prominent, and it was such a small pain that Agent Moines didn’t even stir. Such a wound will be too small to detect, even if anyone were to become suspicious, but there will be no reason for such suspicion.

Erik commanded the small shard of metal through the man’s body, just under the skin, through the neck, down into his chest. Finally, it was in place, resting against the aorta, at the junction where the great blood vessel formed out of the heart.

Erik paused to rest. Such delicate work was new to him and took just as much concentration as moving an over-large satellite dish, but it was delightful. There was more potential mischief in subtlety, and Erik intended to fully use both macro and micro aspects of his ability to the fullest.

“Wake up, Agent Moines.”

Moines heaved himself sideways, going for his gun. Before he reached it, Erik used his power to yank the gun away. “Not the best weapon to choose against me, Agent.”

Moines heaved in deep lungfuls of air, looking wildly about, obviously trying to determine his best course of action. “What do you want?” His tone was belligerent, demanding. Obviously, he was not used to being on the other end of things.

Erik motioned with his hand and the light switched flicked on. The room became swathed in yellow light. Moines’ eyes were fearful, and a watery color of blue. Gus had told him about that, and Erik must agree. The man looked like he’s running out of color.

“I only wanted you to know that I had killed you,” Erik said. He moved the shard of metal a fraction of an inch, puncturing the aorta. He moved it another fraction and the puncture became a nearly microscopic slice. “You will never again hurt another mutant.”

Moines seethed, his face red with anger. He didn’t yet feel the effect of the mortal blow, but he was bleeding internally, and the pressure building up in his chest would soon become frightful. Erik could afford to be patient for at least that long.

“Friend of Charles Xavier,” Moines guessed. “He’s dead, and soon you will be too.”

Erik flinched at Moines’ words. Not dead, he must remind himself. Charles was alive and safe. Yet the description of what Charles had done was fresh in his mind, as told to him by the prognosticator Gus. Erik allowed himself a tight-lipped smile--having already dealt the lethal strike, it will only be a matter of moments before Moines has succumbed.

Moines doesn’t wait—with a growling yell, he leapt from his bed, only to fall before ever getting out. He clutched at his chest with both hands. “What…have…you…done?” he gasped.

Erik didn’t respond. He continued to keep his solemn watch, wishing only that Agent Moine’s death could have been prolonged, but it was more in keeping with his ultimate plans for this man’s demise to appear ordinary. Moines gave one last death rattle and was finally still. His eyes were open, and indeed, they had rolled back in his head, leaving only the whites.

“What must be done,” Erik answered, far too late for Moines to ever hear. “I will always be the one to do the things that must be done.”

Erik turned off the light and replaced the firearm. The body he left alone; it looked perfectly natural as it was for the mild struggle of a person dead of natural causes.

He exited the house, locking the door behind him. The street was dark and it was very, very late.

Erik looked to the sky, where a sliver of moon was visible. Charles was most likely at home, in that overlarge bed of his, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware.

Erik smiled to himself, and was satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: one of the OCs gets murdered (but he sort of does deserve it).
> 
> Not really a sequel, but more a companion piece to [ Hope Told a Flattering Tale](http://archiveofourown.org/works/213527), it follows on after, but each may be read as stand alones.
> 
> Title from a quote/song:  
>  _Hope told a flattering tale  
>  That joy would soon return;  
> Ah, naught my sighs avail  
> For love is doomed to mourn._
> 
> \- song introduced into the opera, "Artaxerxes", words by John Wolcot (Peter Pindar)


End file.
